The Girl in the Turquoise Hoodie
by crankyman7
Summary: A decade after the Roadblasters Incident, Turbo hears that a new racing game will be arriving at Litwak's Arcade. While he formulates a plot to take it over, a young girl begins her new life with enthusiasm, blissfully unaware of the tragedy that looms over her head.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

This is the first of three projected sequels to my earlier fic, _A Racer's Pride_. While that fic is technically the only prerequisite for being able to understand this story, please be aware that this series is [after a fashion] a set of prequels to my main series of post-film WiR stories. As such, some concepts and ideas that are treated as major plot revelations in the main series will be spoiled ahead of time if you read these ones first. Just a little something to be aware of. With that being said, I hope you enjoy the story.

* * *

**Prologue**

_November 1989:_

_Asteroids_ had only one character, and the players never even saw him.

He was the pilot of the triangular spaceship, a hardened, often uncouth man who was quite used to the fact that he was programmed into a game that would never show his face. No, he simply acted out verbally for the fun of it. It was entertaining, trying to get a rise out of the Surge Protector by thinking of increasingly outrageous things to say. It wasn't that he _meant_ the things he said.

At least, that was usually the case. Right now, he felt as though he definitely meant every unrepeatable expletive that fell from his lips.

For a start, his game's screen was busted. It simply wouldn't turn on that day. For another, he'd begun to flicker with blue energy. His body felt…unstable, almost…injured. It was as though something had made a deep tear into his code, leaving him quivering with unstable energy that might explode outwards if he wasn't careful.

But neither of those things were the worst annoyance at the moment. No, the greatest irritant was that he was entirely unable to leave his game.

For the umpteenth time, he pressed himself bodily against the wire opening, hoping to pass through. As with every other attempt, he felt a sudden, painful pressure, as though an invisible force field were blocking his way. For the umpteenth time, he swore violently.

At that moment, he heard voices from up above.

"Can you fix it?" he heard Mr. Litwak asking.

"Nope," another voice replied. "Busted too good, this one. It'll have to go."

The pilot blinked. Go? He was being...unplugged?

And he couldn't leave the game…

"Oh-"

His voice was drowned out by a loud roaring as he felt himself pulled from behind by an invisible force into a rapidly growing mass of swirling pixels…

* * *

…And in the bowels of Game Central Station, far from the eyes of any game character, yellowed teeth bared themselves in a satisfied grin.

The test had been successful. He'd confirmed that the techniques worked. And he'd also managed to dispose of the evidence. Sure, it meant he'd have to find another code chamber to hide out in for a time, so as to better stay away from the gaze of the arcade's watchful guardian. But after more than two years of hiding, he felt confident that he could manage.

_Hopefully_, the figure mused, _it won't be too much longer before I'm guided back to my destiny. _

_But no, I must not be impatient. I must trust in fate. It has brought me this far. It will carry me still farther. Until I can fulfil my duty once again._

_And what a Turbotastic thought that is._


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One:**

**Turbo Overhears a Conversation**

_June 1997:_

On an early morning near the beginning of the summer, Mr. Litwak came out of his office and into the main area of the arcade he ran in Wilberforce, Kansas. He was grinning excitedly. "Woo boy, this one's going to be a hit for sure," he said to the employee nearest him.

"Which one?" the employee asked.

"Why, _Sugar Rush_ of course," Mr. Litwak replied, moving towards the employee, who was standing near the power strip. "The one coming in a week from today."

"It'll be nice to have another racing game," the employee admitted. "Been a while since we got one."

"Not just any racing game," Mr. Litwak added. "This one's real sweet."

"Hah. Hah. Hah," the employee said, his laughter obviously faked. "Nice one."

"Alright Ron, I'll give you that one being lame," Mr. Litwak said. "But still- it needed to be said."

Ron smirked. "I guess I'll let you have it."

* * *

Inside the walls of the powerstrip, Turbo heard everything.

This was extremely welcome news. In fact, it was yet another sign of providence watching out for him.

Yes, providence. After ten years, he could reach no other conclusion. Someone, or something, somewhere, _wanted_ him to keep survive. That was why he'd fallen through that crack in the power strip's plastic coating and into its walls. That was why he'd been able to hide from the Surge Protector by spending time in the code rooms of other games more often than not. And that was why his efforts to learn coding by hacking other games and trapping any potential witnesses by turning them into glitches had paid off.

He hadn't been certain at first why he'd taken to hacking. He knew it was his destiny to one day please gamers with his talent again. But when that day would come, he didn't know. He was a racer, after all, and he couldn't just slide into any game.

If he wanted to, he could code himself into another game. He'd done it more than once: firstly with _Asteroids_, to preserve himself while he learned what he could do with other strands of code, and then with every one of the…oh, seven games he'd gotten unplugged over the past decade? Or was it eight? He was no longer certain.

_Not that it matters_ he mused. _Their deaths, while regrettable, were necessary._

As for what they had been necessary for- well, he _now _knew it was to gain him the skills necessary to eventually code himself into the racing game that would be arriving in seven days.

_I suppose deep down, I always knew this day would come. There would be another racing game coming to the arcade, ready for me to join it._

One necessary skill still eluded him, however. The one essential skill he would to avoid being detected. That skill was the ability to craft a new avatar skin to hide his true form.

He was on the cusp of a theory, but he needed to confirm some things before he dared risk it. From what he had overheard the various employees at Litwak's say throughout the past couple of years, there was one place he could go to make sure, to verify that his suppositions were correct. He had a plan for getting there, but he hadn't wanted to risk it until the time was right. And now, with _Sugar Rush_ arriving in seven days, the time was indeed right.

_Now_ Turbo thought to himself as he headed for a darkened corner, _let's check in on that stash of sprite bombs I've been collecting._

* * *

The Surge Protector was used to the occasional disruption in Game Central Station. What he wasn't used to was said disruption almost taking a turn for the violent. So on the rare occasion -like right now- when he saw something violent seemingly about to happen, he knew to give it his full attention immediately.

"Ralph," he said, materializing beside the villain of _Fix-It Felix Jr._ "Just because the other guy was being an ass, it doesn't mean you need to be one, too."

Ralph lowered his raised fists. "Sorry," he mumbled, glowering briefly at Don, the Nicelander who was nearby. Don snorted and turned to walk away. When Surge said nothing, Ralph pointed after him. "You're just letting him go?"

"If it means nobody dying, then yes, I am," the Surge Protector said bluntly. "Now _please_, keep yourself out of trouble."

* * *

When the altercation between Ralph and Don had occurred, all eyes in Game Central Station had strayed towards them. As a result, nobody had seen Turbo slide out of the crack in the wall and scurry into the wire opening that led into the wall of the arcade.

He was amazed at how easy it'd been. He'd assumed he would have had to have set off at least one of the bombs in a convenient spot, staging a distraction that would have made it look like someone else had planted it. But before he could make any selection, he'd heard arguing from the station interior. And, upon peering out of the crack, he'd seen the opportunity at once, and seized it.

_Providence again. Fortune favors the bold and all that. And what with Litwak using the internet about this time of day all the time, I truly must be meant to succeed._

The internet. He hadn't been there yet. But from everything he'd overheard, he was confident it would contain the information he sought. He knew about the basics- how you had to plug a device called a modem into the phone line, or something like that, in order to access it. Which was precisely why he was heading for the proper outlet now.

It didn't take him long to reach his destination: a short, wide, black chamber with a square portal at the far end. The portal was filled with a translucent, gelatinous substance.

_The path to the internet. Will it be the path to glory, or a dead end?_

He shook his head. _No, Turbo, no doubts! Not now. _

He headed for the portal and, without hesitation, he stepped into it.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

**A Piece of Flesh  
**

On the surface, the internet was organized very simply- a series of corridors with doors branching off into rooms called websites. Yet despite the simplicity of the design, it really was packed with content, and it took him time to find the information he sought. Eventually, however, he did. And to his surprise, nobody and nothing made any attempt to interfere.

He'd rapidly figured out that there was little need to hide his presence. The internet was like a vast digital wilderness, where you could go for hours before spotting another game character. The ones he'd encountered, no matter how friendly, had respected his privacy, merely accepting the revelation that he was an arcade game character as more than enough to go on.

As far as Turbo was concerned, the only real problem with the internet was its size.

The corridors went on seemingly forever, and their various twists and turns allowed the possibility of losing one's way if one wasn't careful. As in fact, had happened to him a short while ago.

_Blast! _Turbo gritted his teeth. _Twenty-four hours before _Sugar Rush_ arrives and I'm still not back yet!_

He gazed at the sign above the door nearest him. He didn't recognize it as one he'd passed before. However, the label intrigued him.

Yahoo!_? What kind of a name is that?_

His curiosity getting the better of him, Turbo opened the door and stepped inside. The room consisted of four bare walls, with a control panel in the center of the room, and a large, empty square portal a short distance behind it.

"Huh," he grunted, stepping forward. "What's this?"

Suddenly, the door behind him slammed shut. Turbo whirled around to see an eight-legged, bug-like creature about his size, staring at him with luminous green eyes that stood out even in the room's bright light. Though to be fair, the creature was otherwise black as the night sky, so its eyes could not help but stand out.

"My lucky day," its voice rasped from its mantis-like jaws. "A free meal."

Instantly, Turbo's guard was up. It wasn't hard to guess what the creature meant by "meal". He needed a way out of this situation, quickly. To his surprise, he thought of a response almost right away.

"No, you wouldn't want to eat me," he said. "I wouldn't taste very good."

"You look tasty, though," the creature replied, moving forward.

"Actually, you might prefer a racer," Turbo said, holding up his hands.

The creature paused. "A…racer? Do tell."

Turbo paused. Could he really deliver what he was about to promise? But no- he had to get out of this room alive, or his plan would never succeed anyway. He would worry about the details later, when he'd guaranteed that there _would_ be a later.

"I've a little…plan in the works," Turbo said, not letting his eyes stray from the creature. "If I pull it off, I can give you someone else to eat in my place. A racer."

The creature eyed him curiously. "_You're _a racer," it said after a moment. "Turbo, from _TurboTime_."

"Yes, I am," Turbo said. "I take it you've read about me on a website before?"

"Yes," the creature replied. "And if I'm to accept a substitute, its code had better taste even sweeter than yours will."

Turbo smiled inwardly at how quickly an opportunity had presented itself. "Sweeter?" He grinned. "I can guarantee it. I'll give you a racer from _Sugar Rush_."

The creature's glowing eyes blinked. "_Sugar Rush_? That's a game full of little kids, from what I've read."

"Yes, that's what I've heard, too," said Turbo. "Is that a problem?"

"Not at all," said the creature. "In fact, it sounds…delicious."

"Then I'll get you a little kid whose code you can eat," said Turbo.

"At my leisure," the creature said. "After I've…played with the kid for a while." It laughed harshly.

Turbo arched an eyebrow. "You'd torture a little kid?"

"You're the one giving this racer to me," the creature said. "So don't talk to me about being cruel."

"I wasn't planning on it," Turbo replied. "Now, if you'll excuse-"

The creature held up one of its frontmost clawed legs. "Just a minute," it said.

"I don't have all day," Turbo said. "I need to get back to my arcade in less than twenty-four hours in order to get into _Sugar Rush_, and-"

"You can't hide the fact that your lost," the creature interrupted. "Stay a little longer, explain to me this…plan of yours. Do that, and I'll show you a…faster way to get wherever you want to go."

* * *

As Turbo made his way back to the arcade, he was feeling a mixture of annoyance and elation.

The creature, which called itself Vermis, had made him divulge more of his plan than he'd really wanted to. It knew that he was going to remove one of the characters from the game -the princess- and replace it with himself, disguised with a character skin he would craft for himself. It had made him talk for a solid half hour, and then kept him waiting for another half hour while it took him to fetch a tiny container, which it then placed a tiny, microscopic piece of its own flesh within.

"This will be an effective distraction for your Surge Protector while you do your coding," Vermis had said. "And when you've replaced the princess, it will possess her and take her back to me. You will, of course, see that it finds its way into her?"

"Naturally," Turbo had promised, not skipping a beat with his reply.

If Turbo was annoyed, it was because of how embarrassed he'd been to learn that the faster route Vermis had promised had been under his nose for the entirety of their conversation and he hadn't realized it. The portal in the room he'd wandered into was a search engine. Had he known about them from the start, he might have saved a lot of time and gotten back to the arcade with far greater alacrity, rather than with mere hours to spare.

On the other hand, if he hadn't bumped into Vermis, he wouldn't have gained such an easy method of distracting the Surge Protector, either. Which was part of why he was feeling elated- the task of getting into the game had been rendered much easier.

As for the _other_ reason he was feeling elated-

_If I send a racer back with this…piece of him…he'll figure out where the arcade is, and then come here and ruin everything by consuming it all with his…virus powers, or whatever he called it. Which is why I'll have to make sure I send him a little…surprise, along with the racer. _

And the funny thing was, he knew Vermis would never see it coming. For all the cruelty and malice he'd detected in the creature's tone and demeanor, it had plainly trusted him implicitly. Why, he wasn't sure, but he was certain of that much. It was something he could take advantage of when the time came to eliminate his fellow conspirator.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

**_Sugar Rush_**

Mr. Litwak watched as the parts for the double-cabinet were wheeled into the arcade, and then as they were carefully setup in their proper place. When the process was over, he surveyed the cabinets with transparent satisfaction. "Nice and cute alright," he said to the nearest employee. "What do you say we turn it on?"

* * *

She woke up as though from an endless dream. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up and looked about at her surroundings. They seemed almost…familiar somehow, despite her never having seen them before. Turning about fully, she saw a road of hardened chocolate, leading towards a tall, confectionary-topped castle in the distance.

_A road for…racing? No, not _this_ road. This road leads to…my castle._

_My castle?_

_Why, of course! Doi! I'm the Princess of _Sugar Rush_!_

She blinked.

_Sugar Rush? What's that?_

_This place. It's this place. My home._

_My home, where I race._

_I'm a princess who's also a racer._

_That's fine with me._

She stood up, stretched her arms to relax her muscles, which felt tight. And then she blinked again, confused.

_What's my name?_

All at once, the answer sprang unbidden to her lips: "Vanellope von Schweetz."

Vanellope placed her index finger beneath her chin and thought for a moment. "A good name," she decided. "I'll take it."

She grinned. The other racers would be awake now as well, and she had to find them…

…_Wait. Other racers?_

"Vanellope, cut it out," she said to herself. "You're a princess, you have subjects. _Duh_!"

She turned towards the part of the road leading away from the castle and began to head down it. Then, abruptly, she stopped. Beginning to breath heavily, she looked this way and that.

_I don't even know what I look like. What if I'm…what if I look terrible? They won't like me…_

Her eyes fell upon a large lollipop which showed her reflection. She stared at the chipmunk-like face, candy-coated black hair, and turquoise hoodie. She smiled, and then grinned, revealing her somewhat prominent top front teeth.

"Perfect!" she exclaimed. Turning away, she hurried off down the chocolate road.

* * *

In the depths of the power strip, in a passage below the wire entrance to _Sugar Rush_, Turbo pulled a small container from his sleeve. The contents were invisible to the naked eye, which would make it all the easier for it to slip in undetected.

Sneaking back into the arcade had been easy, thanks to him arriving during business hours at a moment when the Surge Protector was busy preventing yet another altercation. Once again, no distraction had been needed; once again, providence was looking out for him.

But that didn't mean he wasn't going to play it safe anyway. He had to make sure this piece of flesh was everything Vermis had said it was.

_If it can evade Surge for at least a week, then I'll know. At that point, I sneak in, make my observations, and find my way into the code room._

As he was about to open the container, he hesitated briefly.

_Am I tempting fate too much, waiting that long? What if it doesn't work, and I lose my chance through delay?_

He shook his head, willing away the thoughts. Then he opened the container…

* * *

In a darkened corner of the internet, Vermis laughed inwardly.

Despite essentially admitting to Turbo that he was a sentient virus, he could tell that the racer hadn't fully grasped what that entailed. Which meant that when the time came to exploit the racer's plan for his own ends, he would have the element of surprise.

He fully expected Turbo to keep his word and deliver the princess; from what he'd observed of the racer's behavior, he was sure he'd scared Turbo more than the character had been willing to admit, enough to make him keep his word. What he didn't know was whether or not the racer might try to eliminate him after the fact, to prevent him from finding the arcade and taking more than they had agreed on.

_He might. Which is why its good that he doesn't know the truth- that my flesh can act as a pair of eyes. I've been observing everywhere he's taken it _through_ it. And now-_

Vermis's eyes narrowed.

_Now he has inserted it into the wire. Time to get to work distracting the Surge Protector._

* * *

Vanellope had found the other racers soon enough. Fourteen others, gathered in the forest, all chattering excitedly. No sooner had she found them, however, then she had hesitated. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Vanellope stared at her boots, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets.

"Hey, you going to join us or what?"

At the sound of the voice, Vanellope raised her head. One of the racers, a girl who looked to be around twelve years of age, had stepped away from the group and come up beside her. She wore a largely pink, strawberry themed outfit and her hair, arranged in a bob cut, was platinum blonde.

"Taffyta Muttonfudge," the girl said, extending one white-gloved hand. "Are you going to join us, your highness?"

Vanellope noticed that Taffyta wore a slight smile on her face. Vanellope returned the smile and took Taffyta's hand.

* * *

When she had been introduced to the other racers, Vanellope ventured to ask what they were going to do next. Before anyone could reply, a pale blue form materialized beside them.

"The Surge Protector here," he said. "Guardian of this arcade."

Vanellope, who was at the back of the crowd of racers, grinned and waved. "Hi there!"

The Surge Protector blinked, apparently not seeing her. Then, adjusting his glasses, he said: "I have some bad news. I'm afraid its dangerous for you all to leave the game right now."

"What do you mean?" one of the racers, Candlehead, asked him.

"There's some sort of technical issue with the wire leading out to the power strip," Surge replied. "For your own safety, I need you all to stay inside until I've dealt with it. I'll be in touch to let you know when it's safe. We'll go over some basic rules for when you leave then."

Vanellope tried to jump up and get the Surge Protector's attention, but he had dematerialized by the time she was starting to move.

"No fair!" she said. "I wanted to greet him."

"You'll get to eventually," Taffyta said. "For now, what do you say we go exploring?"

"We can't leave the game yet," another racer -Rancis Fluggerbutter- pointed out.

"I know," Taffyta replied. "But there's a lot of this game out there to explore." She turned to Vanellope. "Ready, princess?"

Vanellope grinned. "Ready as I'll ever be."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four:**

**A Burgeoning Friendship**

Princess Vanellope found herself adjusting to life in _Sugar Rush_ most splendidly.

Apart from racing, her job was simple- wear a frilly dress and hand out trophies at the end of various tournaments. She didn't care much for the dress. Not that she hated cute things -she loved them, actually- but the dress was a _bit_ much. But everything else about her game, she loved.

It had been a week and a half since _Sugar Rush_ had been plugged in, and the Surge Protector had still not given them permission to leave the game. Despite this, Vanellope hadn't gotten bored yet. The environment inside the double-cabinet was vast, so much so that she was still finding hidden corners, nooks, and crannies for the first time.

Of course, she'd also had to spend a good deal of time racing. Every evening before a weekday [the arcade was closed on weekends], she had to participate in the Random Roster Race, a short, one-lap race to determine which of the fifteen racers would be playable during work hours. The process both fascinated and frustrated her.

It fascinated her because of the exhilaration of racing itself. Vanellope loved driving the Royal Racer, a white and pink-icing themed go-kart that also functioned as a part of the throne inside her castle. She loved sending it careening around the various tracks, through plains, across mountains, and across dangerous bridges. She loved the feel of the wind in her pink-goggle adorned face, whipping her hair behind her. She loved the adrenaline rush she got from it all.

It frustrated her because she was nowhere close to being superb at it yet.

As the game's lead character, Vanellope had been programmed with a special ability of sorts. She could store up energy for a time, and then suddenly spring forward about five feet. When behind the wheel of her kart, this meant the kart itself was propelled forward. In theory, this ability gave her an advantage of sorts. In theory.

In practice, it meant that she lost control and crashed more often than not, due to poor timing. As with many specialized game characters, mastering the special ability took a lot of time, patience, and effort. For Vanellope, it was proving as much the case for her as it was for the players.

She'd only placed the roster once, a couple of days before, at the start of the second week. She'd been chosen twice by players that day and lost both times; the gamers in question were little better than she, it seemed. It had bummed her out both times, though she had quickly assumed a cheerful face in time for handing out trophies at the end of subsequent tournaments.

When the arcade had closed midway into the second week, Vanellope had been quieter than usual. Rather than joining Candlehead's impromptu exploration of the junkyard, she had instead stalked off to sit by herself on a jawbreaker. Ordinarily, she would have been happy to go off exploring with the other racers, who for all their various quirks and eccentricities, had proven nothing but kind. But today, however, she felt…

"Vanellope?"

At the sound of Taffyta's voice, Vanellope turned. The strawberry-themed racer was approaching her, a look of concern on her features. Despite her somewhat glum mood, Vanellope managed a smile.

Of all the racers, it was Taffyta she had taken to the most. Though a bit quieter and less of a jokester than she, the older racer had been by far the most friendly towards her. At times, Vanellope wasn't sure if she saw Taffyta as a friend or a sister.

_Maybe both._

Taffyta positioned herself directly in front of Vanellope. "You look a little down."

"A bit," Vanellope admitted. "I mean, I love racing. _Love_ it. But-" She began fingering one of her hoodie strings.

"Keep practicing," said Taffyta. "You'll get the hang of it eventually."

"'Eventually' seems like a dang long time away, Taff," Vanellope said. "Especially when I only got on the roster the one time because of dumb luck and lost every time I was chosen by a gamer."

"Not like every gamer who chose me was all that good," said Taffyta.

"Yeah, but you've been on the roster every day," said Vanellope. "You're…you're really good."

"I don't have a special move, though," said Taffyta, then bit her tongue, realizing what she'd said as Vanellope sighed.

"I mean, I know its hard to master it," Taffyta hurriedly added, "but once you do, I bet you'll be amazing."

"Amazing, huh?" Vanellope grinned. "Guess a girl can dream."

"Look, princess," Taffyta said, folding her arms across her chest. "You've gotta have a little faith in yourself here."

"I thought you said I needed practice?"

"You need both, Vanellope," Taffyta replied, uncrossing her arms. "And I'm happy to see you get them."

Vanellope stood up from the jawbreaker. "You're really nice, Taffyta. You know that?"

"You're my friend," Taffyta replied simply.

Vanellope smiled and held out her hand. "Always?"

Taffyta took Vanellope's hand. "Always."

* * *

From his perch in a tall candy-tree, Turbo peered out from behind the sweet foliage and observed the two racers. He listened to their conversation intently, and then watched as they shook hands and then headed for the castle.

_That scrappy girl is the princess? Huh. Her fashion sense. It's like she desperately wants to be cute but doesn't even know what cute is. Which itself is…kind of cute._

_How sad that she's in the way of my duty. _

He frowned. Revolting as it seemed, he was going to have to turn the kid over to Vermis, as per the arrangement. But not, of course, before he'd planted something on her that would make Vermis go boom.

_Of course, she'll explode along with him. At least it'll be quick. _

_So sad she has to die. But it is what it is. If I'm to do my duty by the gamers and save this arcade from that bug before he double-crosses me, Princess Vanellope von Schweetz must suffer a horrible fate. _

_At least, if I succeed, she'll be the last one I have to kill._


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five:**

**Sour Bill**

_Sugar Rush_ had a majordomo of sorts, an NPC who was essentially a sentient cough drop with arms, legs, and a face across the front of his spherical body. His name was Sour Bill, and his only in-game role was to stand beside Princess Vanellope during cutscenes and look as official as he possibly could.

By disposition, he was programmed to be naturally dour and glum, saying little apart from the occasional morose comment. But for his circumstances, he might have been at least a little more cheerful after hours, when the game wasn't played.

But for his circumstances.

To put it bluntly, he got the impression that Vanellope didn't like him. It was bad enough that she virtually never listened to any of his suggestions whenever he was trying to be helpful. But almost from the start, she had gone further than that. From one prank after another, to taunts, to outright insults, the princess was constantly making fun of him whenever they saw each other after hours.

For the first couple of days, he'd tried to be understanding. He knew he cut an odd figure, comical even; it was only natural that people would laugh a little upon seeing him. After all, the gamers certainly did. But he never managed to get a word in edgewise whenever he tried to show that he was more than just a comical sidekick. Just the sound of his voice was enough to generate a taunting remark about…well, the sound of his voice.

It wasn't _his_ fault he talked in a bored monotone most of the time. That was simply his natural tone of voice. Couldn't she have a _little_ patience with him?

As he stared yet again at the sticky molasses he'd found himself mired in outside the castle, he muttered: "Apparently not."

Vanellope hadn't lingered any longer than it had taken to laugh her head off at his frustrated expressions. On the one hand, that meant that she'd disappeared more quickly than usual. On the other hand, that meant that he was now alone, with no discernible idea as to how he would extricate himself.

"Wow!" he heard a voice say. "That was quite the mean trick she pulled."

Sour Bill blinked. The voice was unfamiliar. He looked around, but the ring of gumdrops he was within blocked his view of whoever was speaking.

"Hello?" he called.

"Would you like to get out of that?"

Sour Bill frowned. What kind of a question was that? Of _course_ he wanted out.

"I don't suppose you were going to help me," he droned.

"Yes, actually, I was," the voice replied. Then, after a moment, it added, "Though…I'd need you to promise not to tell anyone about me."

"Fine, fine," Sour Bill said hurriedly. "Just get me out."

A few moments later, Sour Bill felt a licorice lasso wrap around his body. He felt himself being pulled from behind. After a minute, he popped out of the molasses and deeper into another cluster of gumdrops beyond the ring he'd been trapped within. He landed on his back. A gray face with yellow eyes stared curiously at him from above, adorned with a white racer's helmet that bore a ted letter T across the top. The newcomer grinned and helped him up.

"Who're you?" Sour Bill asked as he undid the licorice from around his waist. "You're not from this game."

"That princess sure is a pain, isn't she?" the newcomer said, not answering the question. "Wouldn't it be something if she could be kicked out?"

"Yeah, it would," said Sour Bill. "But that's a pipe dream…" He paused. "You didn't answer my question. Who are you?"

"Someone who might be able to help you," the newcomer said. "What if I told you it was possible to remove Princess Vanellope from this game, and send her someplace where she'd never torment you ever again?"

Sour Bill stood up. "Taking her out of the game would break the game," he said.

"Not if someone took her place," the stranger replied.

"And who would do that?"

The stranger spread his arms.

"You?" Sour Bill stared at him for a moment, before saying: "I ought to turn you over to the cops."

"And lose your chance at stopping that hooligan?" The stranger grinned. "No, I think you won't turn me over."

Sour Bill thought carefully for a moment. Then, he did something rare for him- he smiled. "No," he replied. "I think I won't." His smile vanished. "Unless you were thinking of killing her?"

The stranger held up his hands, palms outward. "Oh no, oh no, nothing like that!" he said quickly. Then, lowering his arms, he added: "I only meant making her unplayable by the gamers. Keep her powerless."

Sour Bill contemplated this last statement.

_If I do this, he gets to take her place. Would this character treat me any better?_

_But then, he needs me to keep control of the game. He'd _have_ to, wouldn't he? _

"Seems like you need me as much as I need you," Sour Bill said. "I control access to the code chamber, and I help manage this game. You get that royal brat out of my life, I'll make you a racer. Fudge, I'll make you a king. Just stay out of my way and you'll have everything you want."

The newcomer grinned. "Fine with me," he said. "And by the way, my name is Turbo."

* * *

Hidden once again, Turbo smirked. He'd been observing Sour Bill for a bit longer than the cough drop had been aware of. He already knew that his new ally had access to the code chambers. In fact, he already knew the path to the code chambers, and could probably have found a way in on his own if he'd really wanted to. But it seemed to him, matters would be easier if he had an ally on the inside to stage his coup. So he'd taken a chance, and his hunch had proven correct.

_Once again, fate wills my success._

It wasn't as though he'd lied about _everything_ to Sour Bill. Oh sure, there was the little matter of Vanellope becoming an unwitting bomb to destroy Vermis with. He'd definitely lied about her not dying. But he hadn't been lying about not pulling any pranks on Sour Bill or mocking his voice and mannerisms, the way Vanellope did. If the cough drop played his part right, he would have more than earned that much.

He just hoped Sour Bill wouldn't mind not _entirely _remembering why he'd struck this bargain in the first place.


End file.
